


Faithful Servant

by Nary



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Control Issues, F/M, Fire, Infidelity, Kissing, Seduction, Sex Magic, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-08
Updated: 2011-05-08
Packaged: 2017-10-19 03:29:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stannis wants to cuff the woman for her insolence, but he can't quite bring himself to strike a priestess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faithful Servant

Stannis wants to cuff the woman for her insolence, but he can't quite bring himself to strike a priestess - it seems too disrespectful. Instead, he glares down at her coldly. He's never been unfaithful to Selyse, hardly even looked at another woman since they were married, more because he's determined not to be another Robert than because of any affection he feels for his homely wife, but still, it is a matter of honour. He dutifully takes Selyse to his bed two or three times a year, and rarely feels the need for more than that, or if he does, the urge can quickly be choked out by hand. But now Melisandre is kneeling before him, dressed in nothing more than a few wisps of red silk that barely cover her sex, her breasts straining to break free, and she's making promises he can only half-believe.

"You are the prince who was promised, Azor Ahai reborn, and I am your faithful servant. Only give yourself over me, body and soul, and together we will bring down every enemy who stands before you." Her hands rest lightly on his legs, long, slender fingers curling slyly around the backs of his knees, and he feels himself weakening. It's so tempting to believe she speaks the truth. There have been signs… and her power seems genuine. Reluctantly, he parts his legs just enough to let her creep closer, breasts pressing against his thighs. Those pale hands slide up him until they're at the laces of his breeches. He's stiff already, and she traces the hard curve of him with one finger, teasing.

"No," he snaps, grabbing her by the wrist, tight. She looks up, eerie red eyes wide and startled, and he likes seeing the hint of fear on her face. "We'll do as you say, but there will be no …playing. Only what's necessary." She looks relieved then, and nods, and lets him unlace himself.

Is it less of a betrayal if he enjoys it less than he could? The Red Priestess straddles his lap, gripping the back of the chair, and lowers herself smoothly onto him. She's so hot inside, it's like she's burning up with fever, and he feels slightly feverish himself. Her breasts are right in front of his face, her nipples making tiny hard shadows in the firelight, and it would be so easy to pull that silken shift aside and see them plainly, maybe suck them one by one into his mouth, but he doesn't. It would be useless, indulgent, and he's never been one to indulge himself. Instead he keeps his hands firmly on the arms of his chair, and lets her do what she wants.

She's moaning as she rides him, incoherent words spilling out of her in a steady chant. Sweat pours off Stannis, making his shirt cling to his skin. He squeezes his fists tighter. She lets go of the chair back and runs her hands over his face, and he closes his eyes, just trying to keep breathing. But when she presses her burning lips to his, her tongue forcing its way between his clenched teeth, he knows he has to end this soon, or he'll be lost.

He picks her up roughly, and she clings to him with arms and legs and cunt. He'd thought of taking her to the bed, but it's too far with his breeches still around his knees, so he slams her against the nearest wall instead. She gasps, the breath knocked out of her for a moment. Though she's tall, her feet can't quite touch the floor, so he holds her under the thighs to keep her up, and it's like all her weight is balanced precariously on his cock. Her nails claw at his shoulders and she's screaming as he hammers into her. He wants to clap a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, but his hands aren't free, so he kisses her instead. It's rough, but sufficient to stop the worst of the noise. Still, she gasps her god's name against his mouth. On the other wall, shadows that don't look like their casters flicker, arch, and blend into one another.

Even like this, it takes longer than he wants it to, but finally he manages. He doesn't make a sound when he comes, other than a long, faltering sigh. He feels her spasming around him, like she's milking him of every last drop, and her head hangs limply against his shoulder, red hair spilling down his arm like a river of blood. When he sets her down, her knees buckle, so he holds her up for a moment, even though he desperately wants to stop touching her burning skin.

After a few moments, she straightens herself, smoothing down her flimsy shift, and thanks him as politely as though he'd just served her a glass of wine. "You will speak of this to no one," he tells her sternly. "Especially not my wife."

"Your wife is a faithful servant of R'hllor," she replies calmly. "She knows what is necessary. She wishes Renly dead as much as you…" She tries to say more, but Stannis waves her away instead, feeling ill. Once she's gone, he strips off his sweat-soaked clothes and lies down. He feels drained, far more weakened than he should be after this exertion. His dreams are troubled, all flames and smoke, and in them he no longer casts a shadow.


End file.
